


You Are Hell

by readwriteandavengers



Series: Of Time Travel and Magic [1]
Category: Constantine (TV), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Demons, F/M, Ghosts, M/M, Magic, pre-relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/readwriteandavengers/pseuds/readwriteandavengers
Summary: The Legends further their path on their current villain. Only things soon cross into a world the team weren't aware existed, one which Ray soon realizes he's a part of.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I have been working on this for so very long and haven't been able to add much. I believe if I post this then I might get some inspiration! Sorry, this is very light on Ray/Len but I plan on furthering that. Instead of making this a chaptered piece I'll make it a series. Thanks for reading!

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Mick’s voice carries through the deep hall. His eyes dart around the open space in front of them, although he doesn’t see much. The lighting is very limited, seeing as the only light they have are two flash lights. He’s got one and Sara has the other, so at least there’s that.

Mick knows he’s not the smartest guy. He’s got his specialties and feeling out a place is one. He learned it pretty quick, and his power only got better after he and Snart started working together. He was able to pick up on queues a lot quicker, and this is definitely one of those moments.

The air is hot and heavy around them. They’re down in a cellar, so he expects the dampness… but the heat is not something he didn’t’ account for. The outside temperature is about fifty and falling as the night goes on. The cellar, though, has to be at least past seventy. He can feel the heat creating a sweat at the back of his neck, and the humidity causes his clothes to stick to his arms.

Something definitely isn’t right.

Ray’s chuckling lightly behind him, which has Mick shaking his head in disbelief. How Ray always manages to keep his attitude light in situations like these baffles him. He blames it on Ray’s innocence. Ray doesn’t have his intuition; he was never in bad enough situations to learn from them. Ray will always walk into situations expecting the best, which Mick is slowly trying to teach him the opposite.

Sara’s attitude and body language remain just as hesitant as Mick feels. He imagines she’s more trained in his thinking.

They’ll be ready if anything decides to pop out at them in this abandoned house. Sara’s having a hard time understanding how she let Rip convince her and Mick to head into the dungeons of the abandoned mansion. Now Ray she can understand. Heck, he would have volunteered if Rip hadn’t already thrown his name in.

“Mick’s right. Keep your eyes open. Something’s down here… I can feel it.” She’s giving them a warning while trying to remain calm herself. It’s hard with the hairs on her body standing up straight. She can feel the tension down here… the energy.

Just then, a light comes from the end of the hall. It flickers, and they soon realize it’s a flame. As they get closer, it gets brighter and brighter. With a short right, they’re entering a room filled with books stacked high to the ceiling. Candelabras are spread without, only a few lit to provide a good glow to the room. The most unsettling light comes from single candles on the dark oak table in the center of the room. As if something is leading them there.

“Talk about eerie,” Ray says, standing right behind Mick and Sara. His eyes dart down the table, picking up small details. The candelabras are all old pieces, judging by the way the silver has turned dingy. A few even have cobwebs strung between them, which he’s pretty sure is a tremendous fire hazard. Plus, the red velvet table runner looks like it hasn’t been dusted in ages.

Mick rolls his eyes at Ray, now stepping away from the two now that the room is lit. With the glow from the candles, he feels less like something is going to reach out and snatch him. Sara takes that as her lead as well, breaking apart to inspect the items lying around.

The room has many intricate designed antiques such as dark wooden tables, small and big, but only the one in the center of the room has the candles lit. Its surface is filled with books, some open and flipped to certain pages. Mick, out of curiosity, walks over to an open book lined in green. The page is filled with strange symbols and a language he doesn’t understand.

“What is this stuff?” Mick questions aloud as he flips a page. He’s only met with more symbols.

Sara nears an open book as well, although a few of these symbols are recognizable. “Witchcraft.” She answers.

Ray, unlike the others, isn’t drawn to the books or the light. What’s more captivating is the darkness just beyond the book shelves. He takes one step in the direction, eyes narrowing as he tries his hardest to see through the darkness. With a deep intake of breath, he focuses harder.

And a rich blue light flickers in the distance.

Ray’s enthralled now, taking slow steps to the light in the distance. He gets closer, and with each step the light grows brighter. Below his feet is something like limestone, slightly sticky from the moisture. The walls are lined with the same rock, and he thinks offhandedly that they’re quite literally in a dungeon. It wouldn’t be the first time though. He’s past the book shelves now, his fingers leaving the wooden shelves as he ventures further.

He’s stepping into the area that was dark, but now he finds rock walls lined with symbols. Each mark has been chipped into the stone, not perfectly which tells Ray it was all done by hand. While the marks may be alarming, what’s more worrisome is the glow that all of these symbols now have.

Ray’s standing right in the center, as if he’s somehow providing the energy for these lights. He can almost feel it radiating from him, and instead of it making him weak he feels… stronger. He glimpses down at his hands, finding nothing out of the usual. But he can feel sparks at the end of his fingers, has if he has invisible electricity coursing through him.

“Uh, guys…” Ray starts cautiously, his heart speeding up. He tears his eyes away from his hands to stare back up at the glowing symbols.

“Ray? Ray, where are you?” Sara’s voice is worried as she tries to find the source of his voice.

Ray peers over his shoulder, finding Mick and Sara looking around the room wildly. He’s confused, face pinching as he watches the two clearly. They should be able to see him from here, considering he can see the whitish-blue glow on his own arms.

“Guys, I’m over here. Past the bookshelves.” He answers, voice light from not wanting to upset them. Then again, he doesn’t understand how they don’t notice the glowing rock walls.

Together, the two peer past the book shelves but there eyes don’t seem to meet anything. He can see their faces, barely lit by the light. Regardless, it’s as if they’re seeing nothing. Worry seeps into his bones.

“Ray… why are you in the pitch black?” Sara questions, now taking timid steps to the edge. Mick follows after her, grabbing onto a candelabra for better lighting. They stop, trying to get a better look into the darkness.

“What?” Ray says incredulously, shaking his head as he throws his hands up at the bright blue marks. “It’s not…” he trails off, realizing that perhaps they’re not seeing what he’s seeing. He gets worried, so he turns around and walks back over to them, passing the bookshelves to come back into the light.

Mick and Sara inch back, both looking at him cautiously.

Ray throws a hand over his shoulder at the symbols that are now growing dull. “You guys don’t… you guys don’t see them?”

“Alright, don’t start going all _Sixth Sense_ on me, Haircut.” Mick warns, his hand tight around the candelabra and the other hovering over his weapon. It’s not often that anyone gets to see Mick spooked, but he’s clearly uneasy with the mention of witchcraft.

Ray exhales in irritation, now motioning for them to follow him. “I’ll show you.” He answers demandingly, spinning on his heel again. He passes the bookshelves confidently, Mick and Sara right behind him. He navigates without the light, but he can see it casting a glow on the ground just at his feet. It’s not enough to guide him though.

“How are you seeing in the dark like that?” Mick questions suspiciously.

“Because it’s not dark.” Ray bites back.

“Yes. It is, Ray.” Sara’s voice is forceful, but not rude. She sounds concerned but she and Mick still follow Ray.

He stops, just a few feet from the uneven wall in front of him. The rock dips and protrudes at different portions, but the symbols remain intact. He throws his hand up at them, shaking his head desperately.

“Do you see them now?” He questions.

Mick takes a small step forward, holding the candelabra up to the wall. He sees the mark, following the engraving with the flames but Ray can’t understand why. It’s glowing.

Sara’s eyes dart over the mark, taking it all in. But then her blue gaze cuts to Ray, a small understanding now crossing her. “What do these symbols look like to you?”

“They’re lights.” Ray answers mystically, now taking a step towards the wall as he feels a surge of energy. He has to hold back a small laugh, but doesn’t hold back his grin. He lifts his hand, fingers centimeters from the rock. He trails one mark effortlessly, as if his hand is moving on its own accord. “Blue.”

“We should go.” Mick says decisively, now taking a step back.

Sara presses her finger to her ear piece, activating the mic. “We’re headed back. Something’s not right down here and it’s affecting Ray.”

Ray’s hand flattens, now inching closer to the wall. Their words are lost to him, instead focusing on the messages these symbols are trying to convey. He can feel the need from these marks. They want him to read them, to understand them. One more step forward and his hand will land flat against the rock…

“Ray, don’t touch that”- Sara tries, but it’s too late. Ray’s hand now connects with the earth.

He feels his heart drop and the air rush out of his lungs. Within seconds, he gasps, trying to ground himself. He reaches out with his other hand, now laying both palms flat against the rock. Every fiber of his being feels amplified, as if he’s about to burst out of his skin. He scrunches his eyes shut tightly, trying to reign back the feeling. It’s as if he’s feeling an array of emotions at once, but the strongest ones he recognizes are fear and anger.

There’s another surge and numbness. Slowly, Ray opens his eyes.

But he’s somewhere different now. The room is similar, but there are no symbols. It’s just a rock room, no books and no candles. There’s a light coming from above, natural lighting. Ray looks up, but he’s blinded by the light. He can’t see anything so he turns his attention back to his surroundings.

There’s a small sob from behind him.

Slowly, Ray turns to the noise. He feels powerless where he stands, and he certainly doesn’t feel safe. When he finally turns fully around, he finds the source of the noise. A young girl sits in a gown, legs curled up in front of her. She’s got her head down with her arms wrapped around her legs, little sobs escaping her.

“Hello?” Ray says softly, but his voice echoes through the room as if he yelled. He takes in a deep breath as he steps closer. Something’s telling him to stay back but he can’t. As he gets closer, he realizes that the gown the girl is in is a hospital gown. He feels a chill roll through his body as he kneels down beside her, still trying to keep a safe distance.

“Hello?” Ray tries again.

Nothing.

Ray lifts his hand out, reaching towards her slowly. Only when his fingertips are an inch from her, does she react. Her sobbing cuts off abruptly. Now the room is eerily silent.

Ray gulps, letting his hand fall back to his side. “Why are you here?” He asks, but he’s not sure why. He wants to ask who she is and how she got here. He wants to help but something tells him that there’s nothing he can do.

The girl’s head lifts, her sandy blond hair falling down around her face. She keeps her eyes closed, and she looks unbelievably peaceful even though she was sobbing a few seconds before. Her skin looks papery and pale…

Ray knows she’s dead. He doesn’t know how. He just knows.

Then her eyelids fling open only to reveal black globes. Her head snaps in his direction, staring at him blankly through the strands of her hair. From here, Ray can see small freckles on her pale skin. Her lips are chapped and have indents where her teeth had been worrying at them.

Ray feels his heart beating harder and harder.

“Why are you here?” He repeats louder. He’s aware his voice is breaking, showing that he’s breaking into hysterics but he can’t find himself to care.

A smile curls on the girl’s lips, head tilting to the side. “Ray Palmer.” She states. It’s not a greeting, it’s an announcement.

Ray feels his skin chill over. He blinks, trying to regain his composure and the girl just stares with that smile, waiting. “How do you know my name?” He bites out.

“One of the saviors.” She repeats, her voice taking on a demonic tone. It’s mirrored by others, as if there’s more than one person speaking. A laugh escapes her, sardonic and mocking.

Ray feels anger bubble in his chest, right beside his erratic heartbeat. “Why are you here?!” He screams again.

The girl loses her smile, her eyes now growing wider and her lips turning down in an upset frown. She leans forward, her hair now stirring as the wind around them moves. “You want answers?!” The voices coming from her scream. Her hands then flash out to capture Ray’s face. She cradles his face in her hands, her touch firm. “Look at them all! Look at all the victims!”

She then turns Ray’s head to the left brusquely, his chin still in her hands. There now stands a crowd of people and Ray passes by each one without moving. Passing by the feelings they had moments before they died, and seeing every horrific death. He can feel his bottom lip start to quiver.

“They died at his hand!” The girl screams. “The man you are hunting did _this_! He inflicted this pain!”

Ray’s chest starts to heave as he feels the suffering each victim endured. He feels the stabs, the suffocation, the fear… He can’t hold it back. He lets out a retched scream as the pain and fear overtake him.

-

Ray’s head lolls forward, eyes scrunched as he stands before the wall. The second his hands touched the stone, the room was lit ablaze with the blue light Ray had said he had seen. Each marking seems to burn with a white blue fire that now both Mick and Sara can see.

At first the two were taken aback. They weren’t sure how to react to something so strange. The buildup, with Ray’s strange comments, had caused them both to be on edge. Now that something is happening makes it worse. Their adrenaline is coursing but there are no answers their minds can come up with. Their fight response is confused as to how to fight.

His hands now lay flat against the rock as he keeps himself standing, but Sara can see the tension in his shoulders. He’s fighting something that neither she nor Mick can see.

“Why are you here?” Ray questions, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Ray!” Sara screams out, not caring to turn her ear piece off. She reaches out, her hands landing on his shoulders. She pulls at him but he doesn’t budge. He stays where he stands, as if he’d became stone himself.

“Mick, help me!” Sara instructs, still pulling.

Mick had been standing by, eyes wide at the phenomenon. The sound of Sara’s desperation kicks him into action, now launching forward to wrap a strong arm around Ray’s center. Together, he and Sara pull but Ray doesn’t budge. They overexert themselves, only letting go when their muscles grow weak.

 _“What’s happening down there?!”_ Rip’s concern cuts through their panic.

“Something-something has Ray.” Sara tries to explain. She takes a step back, staring back up at all the symbols with panic. “There are symbols. All over. It’s-it’s demonic or something. Witchcraft.”

“How do you know my name?” Ray whispers under his breath.

 _“Get everyone out of there!”_ Rip yells.

“Why are you here?!” Ray shouts this time, his voice bellowing against the cave walls. It causes both Mick and Sara to jump. The white-blue lighting from the symbols flares brighter at Ray's outburst, as if they'r feeding off of his energy. 

“Ray-he won’t move! It’s like-I think these markings are doing something to him!” Sara yells back. She moves towards Ray, about to try and take Ray again just as a scream leaves him.

His head tilts back, his muscles clenching as he lets out a scream of pain and torture. His eyes remain squeezed shut, his hands still flat against the stone. Sara and Mick watch as their teammate struggles with an enemy neither of them can fight.

 _“Sara”-_ Rip’s voice fizzles out. Sara’s earpiece has been drained of any life, and by the look Mick’s giving her so has his.

Then Ray’s scream cuts off. His face softens… and his hands fall down at his sides. The second his hands disconnect from the stone, the markings lose their lighting. Ray starts to fall back, but Mick’s quick to catch him. He’s got his arms wrapped around Ray’s center, huffing out a breath as he supports Ray’s dead weight.

Sara hurriedly grabs onto the candelabra, now turning to give Mick as much light as he needs. He doesn’t hesitate to bend at the knees and hoist Ray into his arms. He growls as he moves, now rushing out of the darkness with Sara.

“Why’s he got to be so damn heavy?” Mick says gruffly as they rush past the books and to the staircase they had come down minutes before.

“Is he breathing?” She asks worriedly as she rushes up the stairs. Mick’s right on her heels. She throws the door open with haste, stepping aside to allow Mick the proper room.

“I don’t know.” He answers truthfully as they rush down the hall. They’re out the front door before they have time to think and are running down the driveway of the mansion. The Waverider is parked nearby, since there was no reason to hide since the mansion was abandoned.

The door to the back swings down automatically as they near, so Sara jumps aboard. She stops, checking over her shoulder to make sure Mick is still following. She lets her eyes drop down to Ray, finding his face worryingly pale.

“We’ve got to get him to the med bay and quick.” She says hurriedly, clearing any items out of their pathway. She rushes down the hall, taking a quick left. She presses her palm flat against the wall, sighing as the door swooshes open.

Mick steps past her, rushing to the nearest cot and setting Ray down. He’s gentle, his hand trailing up from between Ray’s shoulders to the back of his head. He sets the other down and settles his legs so he won’t roll off. He only steps back when he’s certain Ray won’t tumble off.

Seconds later, Rip’s bursting through the door, his coat lifted behind him. He runs straight to Ray’s side, pressing his fingers to the underside of his jawbone. He steadies his breathing, trying to focus on a pulse.

With a sigh, he turns to face Mick and Sara. They can now see his grave expression, which has both of the two worried for a split second. Then his words come. “He’s got a pulse. But very faint. We need to hurry. Gideon, run a scan on Dr. Palmer. If _anything_ is abnormal then let us know immediately.” He informs roughly. He’s flying around Ray’s sides only to hook him up to the few necessary machines.

Rip’s got one clamp to the tip of Ray’s pointer finger, a small red glow coming from underneath it. Straightening up, he focuses his gaze down at Ray to make sure he’s breathing. Only after he sees shallow lifts of Ray’s chest he continues grabbing a few other cords.

A gasp interrupts the three, dragging their eyes to Ray. He takes in a grounding breath, ragged and desperate while his back arches off the bed. The intake of breath is from someone who’s grasping onto consciousness by a shred that only a few hear in tragic moments. With his gasp he bolts upright, eyes wide as he stares blankly in front of him.

Sara and Mick stand just off of either side, their faces mirroring the exact same emotions. Concern, but more strongly there’s confusion.

Rip stays by Ray’s side as he gathers his breathing, bent at the knees with one hand stuck on a machine. He’s frozen, unsure if he should still hook Ray up to the proper monitors.

There’s silence among everyone in the room, and all eyes remain glued to Ray. He blinks like he can actually see since he gasped his way into consciousness. His gaze falls, shaking his head once as he comes back to reality.

“Dr. Palmer is awake.” Gideon announces late.

“Yes, thank you, Gideon.” Rip bites back, now releasing the tight hold he has on the machine. He straightens up slowly, attracting Ray’s eyes to him. Ray looks at him with brows tilted in fear.

“Ray…” Rip starts cautiously. “What happened?”

At the question, Ray’s eyes trail over to Mick and Sara. His chin is tilted down in guilt, but he manages to look up at them under his lashes like a frightened puppy. He holds their gazes for mere seconds before dropping his eyes to the floor. He stares at the sterile tile with his hands in his lap.

“I saw them…” Ray’s voice is light, sounding broken as speaks. “All of the victims. I felt every single death”- Ray’s voice breaks, so he clamps his teeth on his bottom lip. He’s torn by what he has to say. The pain and the suffering he felt had been overwhelming… Ray’s holding back tears.

“Rip, what the hell were those symbols and _why_ was Ray the only one who could see them?” Sara took one step forward, her protectiveness now present. Something’s not right and she’ll find out what.

“And why did they glow when he touched them?” Mick’s curious as well, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t concerned for Ray. But he asks with much more caution. Whereas Sara had experience with the supernatural aspect before, what with being dead once, Mick didn’t.

Rip’s clearly in thought, but understanding crosses his features. He has his answer, but he looks highly displeased with whatever he’s discovered. He turns to Sara and Mick urgently, his hand lifting to point at the two in warning.

“Do _not_ speak about this with the others. For their safety.” His voice is tight, but his eyes aren’t as harsh as his words. He turns back to Ray, putting a hand on his shoulder consolingly.

Within seconds, there are heavy, rapid footsteps to the medical bay. The four in the room turn towards the door just in time to find their team barreling in with panic.

Leonard and Jax are the first through the door, their speed as their advantage. Right over their shoulders stand Kendra and Carter, pressed close once they step in the door. Stein lingers behind, but his worried face can be seen as well.

“What the hell happened?” Leonard talks between his teeth, his eyes leaving Ray to look at Mick and Sara. There’s an accusation in his gaze.

Sara opens her mouth, glimpsing at Rip. He looks at her with lifted brows, a gentle reminder not to say anything.

“Haircut had an accident,” Mick answers, turning towards the team with a swivel. The way he talks without looking at them doesn’t show confidence, but no one notices but Len. “He’s good now.”

The team seems satisfied with the answer, but Len’s gaze sticks to Mick, uncomfortable and present.

-

It’s an hour later and most of the team has all settled back in their rooms. Rip’s still lingering around his office, now with a glass of alcohol. Mick and Sarah, on the other hand, decided to meet each other in the cargo bay… the two had to talk about what happened to Ray.

Sara’s there first, sitting to the left with her feet dangling off one of the large boxes. She swings them back and forth, watching them until Mick enters the room. At the sight of him, she checks over his shoulder before waving him over.

Mick checks one last time down the hall before he listens to Sara. He makes it to her side, sitting across from her on one of the other boxes.

“What happened?” Mick asks calmly, but he looks up under his brows at Sara.

She breathes slowly, turning her gaze to Mick hesitantly. “It’s something I’ve only dealt with once before, when my soul wasn’t in my body any longer. I’d seen those symbols, just a few… but I can guarantee that whatever happened to Ray was supernatural.”

“As in ghosts and stuff?” Mick asks lowly.

Sara nods in agreement. She explains everything to Mick. All of the things she felt when she was out of body, and how it was a daily struggle until she gained her soul again. She describes where she was stuck, and the creatures and spirits that kept her there. More importantly, she explains the magic it took to bring her back. She didn’t understand it much when it happened, and she didn’t ask questions. But she remembers the blond man that had aided in bringing her soul back.

Mick listens quietly, taking in every word with ease.

-

The whites of Ray’s eyes are shiny, a clear indicator of his brokenness. Added to his appearance are the red outlines around his eyes, showing his tiredness and how he’d rubbed at his eyes endlessly through the night. He didn’t get any sleep, and anytime he was close to dozing off he just saw the eyes of those spirits staring back at him.

The symbols remained fresh in his memory, all unique yet distinctly associated with witchcraft. While he never studied the subject directly, his study of science had drawn him to magic. Many believed the two had gone hand in hand. While he couldn’t point out the meanings of the symbols yet, they were familiar. He saw them over and over, so he resulted to drawing them. He couldn’t fall asleep, so drawing wouldn’t hurt.

He’d snuck out to the cortex of the ship, requesting Gideon find him some paper and pen. She was able to locate a stack in Rip’s office so Ray stole it without much thought. It’s not like Rip wouldn’t able to get more. He also took a few of the pencils nearby. With the paper and the writing utensils tucked under his arm, he made his way back to his room.

The rest of the ship was asleep. No one was out and about. No one was even in the kitchen, which Ray would occasionally find a teammate searching for a snack. He knows he’s not the only one who suffers with restlessness… but it looks like tonight he’ll have to deal with it all alone.

His pace quickens on his way back to his room, sighing in relief as he steps past his doorway. He lets the door slide shut behind him, a small click sounding once it locks. He doesn’t stop, headed straight for his desk. He throws the paper down, causing a few pieces to fly down towards the floor. Ray throws himself down in the chair next, and immediately hunces over the paper.

His fingers start to work on their own. He never thought he was a poor artist, but art wasn’t something he planned on pursuing. Now, as the pencil dances across the paper, Ray finds himself shocked with the ability to illustrate what’s in his mind almost perfectly. He continues with his success, compelled to draw everything he’s seeing. He has to get it out of his head.

-

The next morning, the team meanders to the kitchen of the ship. It’s a silent agreement that they’ve all come upon. In the early hours they get breakfast started and enjoy it. When they first became a team it was mainly eaten in silence, or the team would gather their meals and head back to their rooms. Now they can stand each other so they typically stay around.

Kendra’s the first one there so she starts the cooking. Carter soon follows and joins her. It’s typical for the two to be there first, since their clocks are different than the others. Stein succeeds next, always starting a fresh pot of coffee for the rest. Ray, in normal situations, comes next, but today Mick walked through the doorway, being brought out of his slumber by the smell of the food.

He’s used to convening with Ray around that time. Ray always had a cup of coffee in hand when he greeted him, moving to sit at the table with Mick. But that’s not the case today. Ray’s absence from the room is obvious.

Leonard and Jefferson follow after a few moments later, followed by Sara and Rip. The four always shared the need to sleep in. And they’re never fully put together by the time breakfast is ready.

Mick watches as Sara’s eyes scan the room. She then lands her gaze on Mick, and he only responds with a shake of his head.

Leonard notices their exchange and can’t help the way his legs shift in displeasure. He turns over to Rip next, finding the other with worry that’s quickly growing stronger.

“Where’s Dr. Palmer?” He asks harshly, looking straight to Kendra for an answer. She was the first one there, so if anyone saw him it’d be her.

Kendra’s face opens as she hears Rip’s concern. She’s just finished plating scrambled eggs right next to the stack of bacon so she turns and sets the pan in the sink. “I haven’t seen him all morning. I thought he might still be working off some adrenaline from yesterday.”

Rip steps away from the kitchen with fire in his steps. He’s out of the door without another word, his worry clearly set on Ray. It takes the team a few questioning gazes anda  matter of seconds before they’re hurrying after him. Luckily, the herd of team members catch up to their captain pretty quickly, considering they ran after him.

 With a left, the entire team is now down the hall where Ray’s room presides. The door is just as immaculate as the rest of the surroundings. There’s no sign of distress, seeing as it remains closed.

“Rip, what’s going on?” Kendra asks from a few steps back.

Rip doesn’t give the team an answer. They finally reach Ray’s bedroom door. The first thing rip does is put his hand flat on the pad next to the door, but it flashes red. He’s denied access. It’s part of a privacy agreement the team had gone over at the beginning. Clearly nobody wanted rude, unannounced intrusions, but every agreement has an exception.

Rip growls as he begins to push a pattern onto the pad with his pointer fingers. After the first to presses, the pad flashes blue, recognizing the message. A key pad then appears as Rip continues entering the rest of the code.

“Signature overridden by Captain Hunter. Access granted.” Gideon’s monotonous voice fills the hall, and the door unlocks and slides open right after. The moment there’s enough space for a body to fit through, Rip’s sliding in.

Rip takes two concerned steps into the room, hoping to find rl Palmer curled up on his bed. The sight he finds instead has him freezing in his steps. He feels the rest of the team brush against his shoulders, stopping from the same sight.

“Oh my God.” Sara breathes as her eyes scan over Ray’s room.

Scattered everywhere are pieces of paper scrawled with dark scenes. The pencil had been pushed hard onto the paper, creating thick lines and black, charcoal backgrounds. The drawings are not only scattered on the floor, but peppered over his desk, bed, and bedside table. There are a few pasted on the wall, crooked with torn edges. Each drawing is different, ranging from symbols to actual people. Each picture eerie.

No Ray.

Leonard turns towards Rip with a flame in his eye. “Talk. What the hell is going on?” He growls, his lip curling up unknowingly as he turns towards their captain.

Rip’s gaze lifts, landing directly on Sara and Mick. They meet his gaze unwaveringly, waiting for an answer. Finally, he sighs and lets his gaze roam over the rest of their faces. Each gaze is turned to him, weighed with concern. Shamefully, he ducks his gaze.

“This may be hard to understand.” Rip starts, blue eyes darting up to look at the team under his lashes.

“We travel through time, sometimes space, with two demigods, an assassin who’s been brought back from the dead, and I’m one of two guys who can meld into one on fire. Try us.” Jax counters. He crosses his arms over his form as he waits.

“He as a valid point. It’s about time you start trusting us with information.” Stein adds with his chin in the air.

Rip sighs again, running one hand through his golden blond hair. He builds the courage, taking a strong inhale of breath as he turns fully to the team. “Ms. Lance and Mr. Rory can attest to this, since they had been with Dr. Palmer. But I’m sure only Sara has a small inkling of what’s going on, what with her experience.” Rip pauses before he continues. “There are many worlds. One we often hear about in churches. Heaven and Hell, for example. There are creatures. Demons, Angels, ghosts, witches, oracles… They exist. And there are certain people, _humans_ , with a strong connection to these worlds and creatures. Something these people are innately born with.” 

“And you’re saying Haircut is one of these people.” Mick concludes, his usual gravelly voice soft.

“Yes.” Rip answers as he brings one hand up to his mouth. He strokes his stubble as he thinks.

“So these powers…They’re different than what metahumans have.” Leonard deducts next.

“Correct. But there are things I don’t understand. Those are powers people have growing up but Ray didn’t show any signs of having powers up until we visited the manor.” Rip’s eyes go distant and his voice grows with curiosity. “Having a first experience like that would have been terrifying.”

Sara’s eyes stare off as she remembers Ray’s words from the night before. “He said…” she closes her eyes, hit by a sadness for Ray. “He felt all of those deaths.”

Carter’s brows knit together as he hears Rip’s words, his eyes showing sadness. He steps forward, with a small shake of his head. “We have to find him. He shouldn’t go through this alone. That’s something…” Carter pauses, swallowing at his own feelings. He knows what it’s like, although the deaths he always remembers are his own. “We need to find him.” He reiterates.

-

Ray finds himself wondering to a lowly bar, one hanging on the corner of an abandoned street. The nearby buildings are either boarded up or closed for the night. The bar’s sign glows low neon red across the pavement, and that light spreads across Ray as he gets closer. He pushes his way through the front door, letting it swing shut behind him.

The small bar is far larger on the inside. Each corner has couples strewn across one another, and everyone in the place appears to be on something, whether it’s alcohol or drugs. Ray quickly pieces together that the bar has an older crowd. A lot of bald men with long scraggly bears walk around with beers in hand, and always proceeded by a woman. Ray notes they all look like bikers, but he doesn’t recall seeing any bikes outside.

He shakes his head, pushing through the crowd to the bar. Once he reaches it, he lays his forearms flat on the surface. He’s exhausted, and the hardwood surface is a nice crutch.

Ray keeps his gaze down, trying his best to squash his guilt. It’s been a few hours since he left the ship, but no one would understand. And he wouldn’t be able to give them a good explanation. The pull he’s feeling to this place is something he’s never felt. It’s foreign, but feels natural.

“What can I get for you?”

Ray’s head jerks towards the voice, finding a blonde staring back. Her form moves with each tap of her foot, and the way she chews on her gum shows her impatience. Her eyes are lined with dark makeup, and her blonde hair is kinky around her face. He’s mesmerized by the way her dark skin seems to shimmer in the poor light.

When Ray doesn’t answer, her brows shoot up to her hairline to prompt him. He jumps back to normal thoughts, shaking his head to ground himself.

“Uh,” he starts, staring at the bright fluorescents illuminating under the bar. “Whiskey.” Ray decides. He’s not a drinker, never has been. When he usually does partake he usually settles on one beer. He’s got good self-control… usually.

She pushes off from her spot, head lolling back on her shoulders as she goes to retrieve the drink. Ray notices she takes her time putting together his overly simple drink to avoid having to pay attention to any of the other patrons. Nonetheless, she brings over the glass and slides it across the surface to him.

Ray gives her a small nod in return, now cradling the cool glass in his palms. It’s surprisingly freezing against his skin despite the one ice cube placed in the center, which means he must be running hot. He shakes his thoughts off, lifting the glass to his lips and downing the liquid in to long gulps.

The glass clacks against the bar as he slaps it back down, sighing. He lets the burn coat his throat, closing his eyes to accept the punishment. The pain is worth the warmth he feels in his stomach. He slides the glass towards the edge, a small message for the bartender for another.

Ray waits patiently, in no rush. He’ll let the buzz crawl over his skin until the next one comes. Ray has all night to rid his mind of those faces he keeps seeing…

“Mate, you look like absolute shite.”

Ray turns towards the voice, small confusion settling in. He assumes the words are directed to him because he _does_ look like shit. So he’s not shocked when he sees a blond male looking down at him with a small smirk. He looks empathetic as he tilts his head in greeting towards Ray.

“Oh,” Ray finally says. “Yeah. The last few hours, uh…” he trails off, knowing that this stranger doesn’t want to hear his story. In return, he only shrugs. “Been rough.”

“You’re tellin’ me, mate. Everyday’s a fight, innit?” He says these words dismissively. He especially loses interest as the bartender returns. She wraps her fingers around Ray’s glass and tilts her head at the blond guy as if she’s familiar with him.

“The usual?” The bartender questions, already taking a step back.

“You bet.” The man replies as he rests his side against the bar. He flashes her a friendly smile and a wink while his hands search his pockets. He procures a cigarette that’s quickly followed by a lighter. He holds the flame to the edge of the tobacco until it burns a dangerous red. He puffs a few times as he slides the lighter back in his slacks, letting the smoke escape out the other side of his mouth.

“So what’s the story? What’s got you in here with red eyes and a sickly complexion?” He’s turned himself fully towards Ray now, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth to exhale.

Ray turns his head towards him, smiling sadly. “You really don’t want to hear my story.”

“Sometimes stories are all I listen to, mate.” He challenges again, now putting his hands out at his sides with palms turned up in a challenge.

And for some reason Ray actually feels like he should. He feels like this guy is deserving. Maybe Ray should till him of everything that’s happened to him within the last twenty-four hours. But then Ray’s remembering that nothing about his life is believable. He’s a man that can shrink down to unbelievable levels, he’s a genius, he’s time travels with a group, and he’s just experienced something so supernatural even he’s having a hard time grasping it.

The bartender comes back, giving Ray his glass back and a simple beer for the guy who’s talking him up.

Ray grabs the drink again, welcoming the cold against his skin. He stares down at the liquid as he talks. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

A snort comes from the blond, followed by the press of shoulders. He’s leaning over the bar as well with his side comfortably against Ray’s. He’s got his beer in both hands as he talks. “You clearly don’t know who I am.”


End file.
